


Sweet Emotion

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Parties, kisssing, theres quite a bit of kissing, two dorks making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10387512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: Nick Carraway goes to one of Jay Gatsby's parties and gets completely hammered. Then, to make matters worse, Jordan Baker bets him $100 to go and kiss Gatsby.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact there's a frankly enormous amount of slang one can use to describe someone who's totally drunk

Gatsby was well known in New York for his wild and fantastical parties. Everyone who was anyone went, and everyone got completely hammered. It didn't matter who you were or how much money you had, if you went to a Gatsby party, you got totally smashed. I tried not to, as I tended to make a fool of myself when I got drunk, but sometimes I couldn't help it. Plus, after a long day at the office, sometimes you just need to get plastered.   
On one of those days, I was attending one of Gatsby’s parties with my friend Jordan Baker. Well, I say she was my friend. She was more of someone I knew, and didn't particularly like. She was a liar and a cheat, and just overall not a good person. But she liked me, and I suppose it's better than her hating me.   
I had met Gatsby a number of times before. We became good friends, after a rather awkward introduction when I didn't really know who he was. But despite that, he seemed rather fond of me. And I had developed a fondness for him. A fondness that went deeper than just friendship. As the days progressed, I came to the realization that I was in love with Jay Gatsby. And how could I not have fallen in love with such a man? He was gorgeous, with stunning blue eyes and beautiful blonde hair. He was smart, funny, and rich. But there was one problem. He was in love with my cousin Daisy.   
Soon after I realized my love for him, I also realized he would never love me back. He was in love with Daisy, and as much as I hated it, I would have to face the facts. So I did what I could to make them happy. I got them together for lunch, I helped him with whatever worries he might have with a relationship. And I admired him from a distance, silently hoping and praying that one day he might notice me.   
So back to the party. Jordan and I were getting completely shitfaced, and laughing loudly at everything and nothing. And then we spotted him. Gatsby, standing above the crowd, seeming almost like a king admiring his kingdom. For a moment, I stood silently and just watched him in all his glory.   
Then, Jordan gave me a light punch to the shoulder. “Why’re you staring at him?”  
I shook myself out of my stupor (or as well as I could when I was drunk). “No reason. I was just thinking, that's all.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “You're lying. I know that look. You're in love with him.”  
“What? No.” I said, attempting to cover up the fact that that was an absolute lie.   
“You definitely are.” She said, smirking. “I knew it.”  
I glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “Alright, so maybe I am. You can't tell anyone, though.”  
“Why not?” She said playfully. “Are you embarrassed?”  
I felt myself turning red. “Well, I am now!”  
She looked up at Gatsby and then back at me. “You haven’t told him yet, have you?”  
I shook my head.   
She crossed her arms. “Tsk, tsk, Nick. You have to tell him, or else he’ll just continue falling in love with Daisy. And we all know how that’ll end.”   
I sighed. “I can't just tell him. Besides, he probably doesn't feel the same way.”  
“Alright, listen.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a $100 bill. “I'll pay you $100 if you go and kiss him. Right now.”  
I snorted. “I’d pay $100 to kiss him.” But clearly alcohol had caused a lapse in my judgement. “Fine. I'll do it. Why do you want me to kiss him so badly?”  
She smiled. “Because I don't want to see anyone's hearts crushed by their poor judgement.”   
I didn't quite understand what she meant, but I wasn't going to protest. I looked up to where Gatsby had been standing before, only to find that he was gone.   
“Great.” I grumbled to myself. “Now I need to find him.”  
I waded through the throngs of wallpapered party guests, trying to locate Gatsby. It was rather hard to do, as my vision was slightly blurred from the copious amounts of alcohol I had ingested. I knew I'd have a wicked hangover tomorrow, but I wasn't really thinking that through. No, instead I stumbled around, sipping from yet another vodka martini as I tried to find Gatsby.   
Naturally, as I was wildly drunk, I tripped over my own feet. But instead of falling to the ground like many guests, I found myself caught in a pair of muscular arms. And who could it be but Gatsby.   
“Whoa, there, old sport.” He said, helping me back to my feet. “Are you alright?”  
I nodded drunkenly. “I’m fine, thanks.”   
“I'll have one of my drivers take you home.” He motioned towards his garage. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”  
Well, that was the understatement of the century. I was totally wasted. But that wasn't important. I was a man on a mission, and I wouldn't be leaving until I accomplished that. Or I passed out. Whichever came first.   
“Can I talk to you in private?” I slurred. “It’s really important.”  
“Sure thing, old sport. But then I'm sending you home.” He said, placing a hand on my shoulder.   
We walked into his enormous house, where a few guests staggered around and chatted. I think I saw one guy throw up in a plant. We made our way up to Gatsby’s study, with him occasionally helping to steady me so I didn't fall down the stairs.   
When we finally made it into his study, I stood awkwardly near the door.   
“So what is it you needed to tell me, old sport?” Gatsby asked.   
I took a deep breath. And then I passed out on the floor. Not my brightest moment.   
When I woke up, I first realized that I had a splitting headache, and the sun was trying to murder me. I groaned and pulled the sheets up over my eyes, trying to block out the light.   
It then occurred to me that I was not in my bed at home. The sheets in this bed were far nicer than mine, and the down comforter was amazing. I pulled the sheets down from my eyes and glanced around, realizing just how large and splendid the room itself was. And then it hit me. I was still in Gatsby’s house.   
I pushed the covers off and sort of flopped out of bed, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. I noticed that someone must've taken my shoes off after I passed out, as they were sitting beside the bed. I slipped them on and crept to the door, a little curious as to what wonders the corridors of Gatsby’s magnificent house might hold. And, more importantly, where was Gatsby? I had to apologize to him for passing out on his floor.   
I slowly made my way down the hall, my splitting headache slowing my progress immensely. Eventually, I reached what I knew of to be the sort of ‘Great Hall’ of Gatsby’s house. Servants were scurrying around, cleaning up every last hint of last night’s raging party. I tapped one on the shoulder, and they directed me towards Gatsby’s study.  
I hesitantly knocked on the door, before peeking my head in. Gatsby was seated at his desk, scribbling away at a piece of paper. He looked up, and gave me one of his signature smiles. God, how I loved those. He always seemed so sincere and kind when he smiled.   
“Morning, old sport.” He said, motioning for me to come in. I sat in an overstuffed leather chair in front of his desk, attempting not to show just how hungover I was.   
“I, uh, wanted to apologize for passing out on your floor last night.” I said, anxiously running a hand through my hair.   
“It was no problem at all.” He said, gently folding up whatever he had been writing before. “What did you want to tell me last night?”  
Ah. Right. That. I had almost forgotten about the bet I had made with Jordan. I couldn't just tell him that I had bet $100 that I could kiss him, though. Could I?   
“I… uh… it was nothing.” I said, trying to play it off. “Just some drunken ramblings. That's all.”  
He could tell I was lying. “Are you sure about that?”  
Ah, screw it. I didn't really have anything to lose, anyway. “I made a bet with Jordan Baker. She said she’d give me $100 if I…” I took a deep breath. “If I kissed you.”   
A playful smile came across his face. “Really? You don't seem like the kind of man to do something like that.”  
I felt my face turn bright red. “I was drunk.” I stood up. “Sorry. This was a bad idea. I’ll just go.”  
“No, Nick.” He stood up to match me. “I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised you'd bet on something like that.”  
I realized that that was one of the first times he had called me by my actual name, instead of calling me old sport. What could that mean?   
I motioned towards the door. “I'll go tell Jordan the bet is off. Again, sorry for this.”  
I began to walk away, but he walked around his desk and put a hand on my shoulder. “Wait, Nick. You don't have to tell her it’s off.”  
I turned around to face him. I could almost see my reflection in his gorgeous blue eyes. “Why not?”  
“I’ll kiss you.” He said, his voice getting soft. “If you want, I’ll kiss you. But on one condition.”  
“Anything.” My heart was racing. I had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity.   
“Don't do it for the bet.” He whispered into my ear, sending chills through me. “Do it for me.”  
I closed my eyes and gently pressed my lips to his. At first I was hesitant, but I kissed him deeper when I began to feel his hand on my back. Kissing him felt better than anything I had ever felt before. In that moment, it felt like the whole world simply revolved around us. He was an amazing kisser.   
When we separated, I took a deep breath and smiled. His stunning blue eyes locked with mine, and before I knew it, we were kissing again. This kiss was more aggressive, more passionate. His tongue worked its way into my mouth, evicting from within me a moan. I slid my hands within his shirt, feeling his toned, muscular body up and down.   
But then, a thought occurred to me, and I pulled away. He seemed surprised at my sudden change in pace, and he raised an eyebrow.   
“Is something wrong?” He said in a breathy voice. “We can stop, if you're uncomfortable.”   
“No, it's not that.” I paused, thinking about how to get across what I was about to say. “I thought you were in love with Daisy.”  
“Maybe I was, at one point. But not anymore.” He chuckled. “If you want the truth, old sport, it was all a facade. I did it all so I could spend more time with you.”  
I was stunned. Well, not as stunned as I might have been if we hadn't just been making out, but still stunned. “Why? Why me?”  
He reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of my face. “Because you're a good person, and the heart works in mysterious ways.”   
I couldn't argue with that. And so I pressed my lips against his, and we proceeded to kiss once more.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was fun to write  
> Plus I didn't have to bring anyone back from the dead so that's always a plus


End file.
